The Serpent and the Flamel
by llothcat
Summary: Continuation of the story "Gateway to Magic".. told in fits and burts- various POV's. There may even be a overall plot. Chapter 6- the reunion with Harry..
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist nor Harry Potter.

The author also does not make any money on this here thing, as it written mostly for her amusement, and happily shares it, freely, on this here 'net for general responses and yes, even flames. All writing, due to the very nature of the 'net, is likely to be edited, drastically changed, or erased all - together on a moments notice, in a fit of anger, or perhaps sheer frustration, with or without forewarning and, well, most likely, no apologies at all.

Chappy number one will be up in a few days. 


	2. One

A/N- Ok, I lied about it being posted in the next few days. I actually have something right now. Enjoy:)

-break-

He felt something.. The barest of tickles deep in his chest, and frowned. Then slowly closed the tome before him as he glanced around the place, dark golden eyes hidden behind his side-swept bangs.

He saw only piles upon piles of books, laying stacked just as they had been for hours.

He gripped the handles of his leg braces a bit tighter than necessary as he rose from the table, and with a wide friendly smile directed towards the bored-looking clerk at the counter, lumbered past.

Dust clogged every available space, drifting through the air, even settled thick and well between the tomes on the shelves. As he staggered his way to the back of the place, he glimpsed a flash of gold up on a high dusty shelf and found himself glad he had chopped his own long dark golden locks off about a week prior. He found it much more comfortable in the hot old dusty rooms the frequented without that extra layer clumping against his neck.

"Broth..?" Alphonse began, then let the air out of Amestrian word before he completed it.

They were, afterall, in a BOOKSTORE. He well knew that nothing, not even an nearby explosion, would likely break his brother's focus if he happened to be immersed within the pages of a book. To his surprise, however, a pair of golden orbs peeked over the wooden edge.

"Yeah, Al?" Ed replied in Amestrian. He saw that Ed was looking over the edge of an open book. That told Al Ed had felt something, too.

Al tried his best not to let his worry show on his far too expressive face, and knew he was failing horribly at the task.

Wordlessly, Ed slipped down the bookshelf, and slipped on his long coat. With a bright, though entirely fake smile as he looked at him, Ed managed a happy sounding voice and spoke in the language of this land called something like 'Jerm - many'.

"Hungry already, huh?"

Al knew the words were too carefully chosen, and fell into a shambling pace behind his brother as the seventeen year old led the way out. The golden eyes hardened as Ed examined at the clerk as they went past, and Al tried a friendly wave as he went by as an apology before the poor girl had her back against the shelves in alarm from the too piercing gaze.

On the sidewalk outside, Ed continued his rude behavior, adding a severe frown to his face as he went. Then, he scowled. With a tiny glance that told Al all on his mind, Ed turned.

In many ways, in was very like an Alchemy problem. Ed was the genius of them both, and, like now, Al was always, and quite naturally, just a bit behind him. Shambling along at the silently requested respectable distance, Al tried his best to pick out from the scant clues what Ed somehow just knew already.

An array, from the faint tickle, must somehow be involved. But to be on such high alert?

Ed had explained to him that Alchemy didn't quite work here. He hadn't actually tried any Alchemy since he had arrived to truly test the hypothesis for himself, as he had been recovering, slowly developing a firmer sense of his physical self. Somehow that very sense was shattered when he was struck by that green flash of light...

It was quite a hazy memory.. But it was there...the light flashing from a stick of all things.

Determining stick-based Alchemy was involved, Al searched hopefully about for the slight objects, but suspected it would be much like trying to pick out a sniper like Hawkeye from a crowd: a near impossiblity indeed. With that thought, it occured to him that the only remaining option was..

There was a cry.. A jet of red light from a pointy stick. It registered in his mind that Ed flowed gracefully into motion. He watched in horrified facination as the jet bounced harmlessly off Ed's right forearm, shredding his entire sleeve to nothing before it shot back to where it came from.

The ground shook, as, down the street behind them, an deafening boom rocked them all. Al ducked his head down instictively and gripped his braces for the balance he needed. Newly emerging physical instinct forced him to close his eyes for but a split second, which he knew- just knew- was a deadly mistake.

He cracked his dark golden eyes open and saw a dark haired male in strange clothes laying on the sidewalk- entire body smoking; The jet of light must have struck him solidly. Al heard the muffled cry of pain and yards away something, - another person!- dressed much the same as the first with drifts of thick dark smoke rising from his shoulders, back, and.. shimmered into view. This one fell limply to the ground before him. He wondered what had happened to make him..

He looked behind him, saw smoke and flame engulfing the cobblestone street, blanketing the quaint peaceful shops of the town in shadow. Shimmering above that..in the sky like a firework, a sparking skull with a snake spilling from its mouth.

A startling cold hand gripped his bare bicept. Al froze a moment -a result of having to think to move even after but a few months. He gazed stupidly at the shining mechanical thing, noticing it was lightly covered in soot, then it dawned in his mind that it was his brother's arm. The very right arm that had just deflected at least one jet of the strange stick-Alchemy from the bookstore they had just exited.

He heard the muffled pounding feet in every direction around them. Paniced cries and screams filled his ringing ears. A vague memory of dry gritty winds arouse dangerously in his mind, and he stared sightlessly at his brother's orbs when his chin was gently cupped in the warm flesh of Ed's living hand.

"Come on.. Keep moving." Ed growled in Amestrain. "Have to keep moving.."

Logically, it was the only option left them. They had to be very bad. Uncooperative. Moving targets.

Like always.  



	3. Two

A large crowd of revelers approached the squat building, and he found he didn't understand a word of whatever they were saying. He briefly marveled at the distinctive smell of alcohol as he breathed in, and smiled faintly at the crowd as he adjusted his grip on his braces. Nodding politely, and receiving joyful polite nods and the odd alcoholic salute in return, Al again reminded himself of the name of this place: Kelheim.

He now realized beyond the arched doorway was some sort of bar; however he could not help but linger a moment, just outside the eerily familiar place. It was such a close match, from the cobblestones at his feet to very blocky sandstone of the walls, so like the buildings he had helped restore in Liore that he shook his head slightly at the irony: of being old enough to rebuild a place on one world only to find on another that he was woefully underage to even venture past the door.

At length, he adjusted the straps of his laden backpack, and lumbered onward down the street to share his hard won supplies with his waiting companion. He was steps away from the door of the hostile room he shared with his brother when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He froze at the unexpected cold touch, but immediately knew it was a right hand - a false right hand.

"..Have to go." He heard Ed say in Amestrian, soft urgency in his voice, and widened his eyes at the warning tone. He looked at Ed's hand as it lifted a strap of the pack, easily freeing him of his burden. "Here Al, let me.."

"Brother..?" Al whispered back, mildly surprised by the bold red cap that both shaded the golden orbs and hid the blond hair. The eyes flicked. Once. Towards a window.

He felt the barely noticeable flutter that he knew had to be the strange stick-based Alchemy, sucked in a breath, and looked again at the grim faced Ed.

A matching cap was firmly pressed into his chest, a brightly printed slip of paper stuffed within: it was a train ticket. Al immediately placed the cap on his head, glanced down at the ticket, and scrunched his face in confusion.

In bold were a jumbled mix of letters, forming a word he did not recognize...By the time they boarded the train he had puzzled out what it meant.

"Brother.. We haven't been here that long.. Another country so soon?"

"I'm sorry, Al. I don't want to just yet either, but...tch. Whoever they are, they're finding us so quickly that we've got no choice but to broaden where we can go."

"Sigh.. Where we can hide you mean..."

"Don't know how they're doing it, Al. And until I can figure that much out.. We have to keep moving.."

"At least you have a plan this time, brother."

"Whatcha mean? I always have a plan...!"

"Right." Al said, and a image of spectacular flames.. A blasted, ruined open space.. All surrounded by many cheering people dressed in crisp blue uniforms arose in his mind's eye. He crinkled his dark golden eyes in amusement, and added. "..A good plan beyond.. Say, just a fist to the face..?"

"Huh?" Ed smiled in amazement. "You remember that..! That was nearly two years ago..when you were.."

"..Just came back now, brother.. I don't have everything yet. I think it's the shock of... Whatever it was that I got hit with."

Ed smile faded slightly, and his golden eyes became distant.. Darkening, burning with deep anger, and something else like the all-too-familiar guilt.

"I always enjoy watching you fight.. That battle assessment was.. Amazing. You.. won.. I think ..?" Al said, and was rewarded by Ed's renewed, not entirely genuine, smile.

"Heh. Flame was real close to finishing me, but I had him cold and he knew it. Colonel bastard better be running the country by now.."

"He's.. Um.. Only a bridager-general."

"What..?" Ed said with a laugh. "Lazy git. He needs a kick in the arse I tell you..!"

-break-

Yellow eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the woman sitting easily on the scarce wooden bench, the tawny haired man entered the cool chamber that currently served as the Auror's holding cell.

Curiously rigid blond curls framed her heavy jaw, and her claw-like finger-nails, painted a flashy red, clutched one another compulsively upon her lap. Immediately, her sharp eyes met his. She glided to her feet, stretching out one clawed hand at him in a sort of greeting through the bars that held her in place.

"Head of the Aurors, Rufus Scrimgeour. It is an honor." She said smoothly. "If I may have my handbag returned to me, I will happily conduct an exclusive interview on behalf of the Daily Prophet. "

"Rita. Skeeter." Scrimgeour said flatly, as if tasting something he did not particularly like. "I have questions which must be answered. Regarding the whereabouts of a pair of.. Suspects.. Named Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric."

She folded her arms and raised a single penciled brow.

"Like any with wizard, if you wish to know where they are... Simply send an owl."

"If it were that easy, Miss Skeeter, then Aurors certainly wouldn't be needed to track wayward wizards, now would they?" Scrimgeour scoffed.

"We both know that who you want are certainly not wizards, and are thus, out of your jurisdiction. One assumes such ordinary tracking would be a simple enough task. For a competent Auror, that is. You look tired. I suppose it's time you step down from such a clearly stressful position?"

"Indeed. I have recently been declared the new Minister of Magic." Scrimgeour said and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Congratulations." Rita said without much enthusiasm, and glanced at the pair of Aurors standing guard at either side of the door. She returned in something of a huff to sitting on the bare bench within the cell.

"As for the matter of jurisdiction, the Wizengamot are in heated deliberations as we speak."

"Ah.. Interesting. Of course you could always issue decrees..."

"I have no intention of repeating the.. Considerable mistakes..of my predecessors. Tell me what I want to know, and you will be free to go."

"I'm listening."

"As I understand it, you.. solely report on Alphonse of late..calling him the second boy-who-lived."

"He happens to be a top seller to the newspapers - second only to... Ah yes... The Chosen One. Seeking a mascot for your new regime Minister..?"

"That is none of your concern. How is it you manage to find the pair so easily..?"

"I am a reporter. Trade secrets and all that. I will never reveal my sources. I'm sure the first boy-who-lived would be thrilled that you are so interested in locating a tragically missing friend of his...thrilled enough to perhaps begin lending his support to your regime should you manage to find him.. I'm sure it will boost your popularity in the polls if he sways your way."

"Miss Skeeter, you are well aware You-Know-Who is after them."

"Is he now. It's common knowledge You-Know-Who wants a lot of people dead, Minister. You do know your new position means you have to better than that. I suppose that once you do manage to find them, which will be quite the feat as to the best of my knowledge your Aurors are weeks behind, you will, shamefully I add, once again hold the Muggle one in chains." She looked disdainfully about at her current surroundings. "Perhaps in this very cell.."

"Half a Muggle technically speaking.." Scrimgeour quipped under his breath, remembering well not only the many prominent scars marking the boy's body, but the metallic false right arm, bolted on and moving so naturally that it was eerie to watch.

Alestor Moody, the nearly paranoid retired Auror, had assured him, over much needed drinks after the events of that fateful night,( in which that the Dark Lord had apparently nearly killed everyone on the ISLAND, using some sort of magical ritual Moody didn't pretend to understand), that the boy was also missing a leg; however, in what Scrimgeour suspected was some sort of a joke, the man had not revealed to him which one it was. If that hidden leg was anything like the arm, he KNEW there would be no way for him to tell unless the boy chose to show him himself.

Or perhaps walked barefoot.

Boy? Why he still clung to referring to someone who moved like THAT a mere "boy"... Edward Elric was obviously not only NOT a boy, the young man had not been anything like a child for a VERY long time. If there was one thing he was certain of with THAT Elric, it was that he was every bit a veteran of battle. The fact that Edward had downed a few Aurors, so easily, attested to that.

Not for the first time, Scrimgeour found it a shame that Elric was but a Muggle.. It was no surprise to him that Auror Tonks had lost track of him; the poor novice was out of her depth with that one.

He shook his head slightly and said much more forcefully, "Again. I will not be repeating the mistakes of my predecessors."

"Could have fooled me." Rita said. "I'm certain the wizarding public will be quite delighted to hear that you would rather chase after a pair of Muggles than protect the wizarding community from You-Know-Who."

"Once they are located, and either declared to be "magical creatures".. Or perhaps "beings"..they will fall under my jurisdiction. The two will simply to be held in protective custody for the good of us all."

"I'm sure." Rita smiled sweetly. "By the way. I will be delighted to add an expose on the harsh treatment of my person to my report on the status of your new regime. Yes.. Photographs in here would be simply dreadful for the public to see."

"Minister a word..?" Shacklebolt said, holding a stylish crocodile handbag in one hand, and a pile of parchment in the other.

Scrimgeour nodded curtly at the jailed reporter and stood beside the seasoned Auror.

"What is it?"

"I do not believe she knows a thing, sir." Shacklebolt replied, and handed over the pile of paper.

"Hey..! Don't read that! That's a rough copy..!" Rita hissed. "Its from a quirky quick quotes quill that's not quite.."

Scrimgeour held up one hand, and held his face in a stony expression which effectively silenced the vicious tongued woman. Then flicked his eyes across the garbled scribbling.  
oooooo++++++oooooo

Mysterious potholes began crumbling the streets beneath the feet of the people of Central. Many reports of missing Isballans were ignored by the higher ups, but, the ever vigilant Flame kept track of the details.

Soul, searching for Steel, found a number of bloody corpses, and went to Flame to report his findings. After exploring the tunnels, they soon found a monster.

The monster had a name: Gluttony.  
Soul had watched in horror as his friend, Wrath, battled the monster Gluttony, and soon both Wrath and the monster began to glow.

Wrath vanished and another appeared in his place. Heedless of the monster looming before him, Soul rushed to the stranger's side.

Flame was set to devour what was left of Gluttony, but held back for Soul, at last, found his long lost Steel...

ooooo+++++oooooo

".. reads like a child's tale..." Scrimgeour said in a low voice.

"I believe she has been embellishing what little she knows.." Shacklebolt said softly as he gazed at the woman. "I should remind you that you have a pressing meeting with the Prime Minister in a few minutes."

Scrimgeour passed the manuscript back to Shacklebolt in disgust, and pointed one finger at Rita.

"..If you believe this rubbish will convince me you know nothing of the Elrics current whereabouts, you are dead wrong.. Good day Miss Skeeter."

"..Keep me here too long and you wouldn't last longer than a year in office." Rita glowered as the door closed behind the departing Scrimgeour.

Shacklebolt widened his eyes, and with a passing thought, hurriedly passed both manuscript and purse to Rita.

".. I suppose the translation spell does need some work.." He heard Rita mutter as he rushed to catch up with the Minister.

Shacklebolt soon fell into step beside Scrimgeour, and once safely within the confines of the elevator with the man, well out of earshot of anyone else, said in a low voice.

"If I may make a suggestion, sir?"

"Yes..?" Scrimgeour said blankly.

"Since the Elrics are hiding somewhere within the Muggle community, perhaps it would be wise to allow the foolish Muggle Minister to think he is useful. Allow him to say.. What are they called..ah yes..make use of the Interpool organization of that they have. Have them search the Muggle areas since they are more familiar with their own ways..?"

Scrimgeour blinked a moment, and stretched his thin lips.

"You're learning well." Scrimgeour covered, and lifted his head proudly. "That. Is precisely what I had in mind to keep the Muggles busy and out of our affairs."

"Most wise of you..sir." Shacklebolt made sure to keep his face both professionally bland and passive, allowing the man to take full credit for the idea.

"Sigh..such a bother. Even if they have their uses, I really. Hate Muggles.. bless them."

"Yes sir." Shacklebolt said, and added. "We all do, sir."

-break-

The sign above him read some vaguely familiar word his brain didn't bother to translate as he ran right by.

"All according to.." Ed widened his golden eyes and sprung aside into a harried hand spring, narrowly missing the sudden jet of energy that shot out from an unexpected wand.

"..plan.." He finished in Amestrain as he found his feet, and lunged to run in another direction.

The newest robe clad idiot-in-a-skull-mask fell neatly in place behind him, joining the three others on his tail. Ed dove into a forward roll, avoiding more jets that flew harmlessly above him, quickly scrambled to his feet, and then, with a quick glance around, darted down a dark alley.

He heard many shouts in what he supposed was French, and had to scramble and leap over fences, many garbage bins, and even a beast which looked suspiciously like a small snarling horse with a prominent set of very large, very pointy, sharp teeth.

The hum deep in his chest nearly faded away, and so he slowed. It wouldn't do to loose his pursuers after all...

"Flabby wizards.. Come on...come on.."

.. Not before he reached his destination anyway.. He glanced backwards for a few steps, thought he saw some shadows moving in the darkness..

Then.. He took in a sharp breath. The hum spiked suddenly, and he reacted on instinct alone. His back twinged painfully as he bent backwards, nearly flat to the pavement in his effort to avoid being struck by a green jet shooting out from the shadows before him.

As he scrambled back to his feet, he worked the mystery out. Somehow.. even though he well knew THIS was a blind alley, just big enough, a few the wizards had gotten in front of him. He crouched low as he darted his golden eyes warily about, chest heaving from exertion of the run.

The masked wizards jabbered in french, emboldened- thinking him trapped, he supposed. Wands were drawn as he heard the footsteps pounding behind him, signaling the approach of his pursuers. He heard more bold words he didn't know, followed by laughter.

Now surrounded, he looked at them all, sticks pointed at him so boldly, and smiled a wide cocky grin.

"Pathetic. You can't do a thing without your sticks, can you..." Ed said in careful french, not particularly caring if he pronounced everything right.

"What did he just..?" He understood that much of their language. But not the snarled command by one of their number; whatever it was, made quite a few step forward.

That was when he decided they were quite close enough.

He slapped his hands together; Even through his black gloves, the distinctive sound rung ominously in the night air. Equation shining firmly in his mind, he slammed both to the filth encrusted street.

As the ice blue lightning danced wildly around him, he focused on the bare warehouse by the train station where he had told Al to hide. The ground beneath him shook as the equation took hold, and he poured ever more power into it. He watched with some amusement as the masked cloaked figures stiffened and scrambled backwards. He felt the furious wind of the reaction blow his heavy braid right off his neck.

The ground crumbled to nothing beneath him with a deafening groan- For but a moment..He floated in nothing- then the his feet hit something solid once more. As the smoke of the reaction slowly cleared, he saw the pavement around him was thickly cracked, and his golden eyes quickly traced out the pattern of his brutally primative equation.

Over his own panting breaths he heard the sweet sound of Amestrain syllables dancing on a voice filled with concern.

"Brother..? Is that..?"

Ed wobbled on his unsteady feet, a bit giddy that the thing-which he had completely discarded as an utter failure for what he had originally intended it for: as a way to go back home- worked so well. If not for the fact he felt utterly drained, he would say transmuting the space of a few miles together felt very much like hopping into the air.

"Yeah Al.. Just. Give me a min.." His knees buckled, and he teetered over in a near faint on both hands. He felt hands upon him in seconds.

"Brother..! How? What did you do!"

Alphonse, sweet Alphonse, was moving easily with hard won fluid grace. Ed couldn't hold back his prideful smile.

"Fine.." Ed replied, and forced his leaden muscles to move. "Just a little something I was working on...'Sall."

Alphonse looked thoroughly unconvinced.

"You've never been this exhausted after a transmutation..! Is everything..! "

Ed waved him off, and climbed back to his unsteady feet. That was when he felt the twinge in his left, and though he tried to tough it out, in only a few steps he was limping quite heavily. Before he got very far, Al draped his arm around his shoulders and helped take the weight off. At that very moment, something gave in his right with a sick whine and a sort of clanking whirling clink; whatever it was, it made him wince as well.

"Brother, this.." Alphonse began. ".. Something's wrong. You shouldn't be in pain.. This automail.. "

"Ah.. Yeah. I know. It's crap." Ed said under his breath with a hiss as Al lowered him to sit on a dust wooden chair. He really would have taken a nap then and there if not for the pain in his ports...and Al.

"How are we.. I mean Winry's back.."

"I know, Al. I know. I have.. There's someone on this side. Not nearly as good as she is but he's better than nothing. My french isn't that great.. But.. We'll need a phone..."

-break-

A/N- and there you have it. And Update nearly on time!

Discovered the wonder of outlines in this fic. Works beautifully well when combined with character notes, though it took longer than I anticipated to flesh out until I was satisfied.  
I did try my best to research France like I did a bit of Germany- dang wiki page for it actually crashed my entire phone. So.. A change in POV was in order. After all, Ed wouldn't really care if he was in the most romantic place on earth or not, right?

In case you haven't noticed, this fic has a different writing format than "Gateway". I am not restricting myself to only two character's pov any longer. I hope it's an enjoyable read.  
As aways..

TNX for reading and reviewing.! 


	4. Three

Nearly three weeks, blissful three weeks without so much as a tickle in his chest. So far..so good.

The train they were on swayed gently as it rounded a bend, passing a thick forest on its way to the terminal in another country that he didn't remember the name of. There.. They would somehow change trains.

Al graced a knuckle against the clammy cheek of the unconscious form buried in the layers of blanket and coats before him. The touch caused a slight grimace of discomfort and a groan; Al frowned in worry, adjusted the topmost blanket about his brother's shivering form, and sat back into his own blanket.

He had been so proud when he had found the thick and warm thing in Germany; however now, with this fever gripping Ed as it was for the past few days, he was beginning to fear it wasn't going to be nearly warm enough. He looked out the window, and watched the scenery pass by.

They had many more countries to pass through before they met up with the one who could fix Ed's automail. And it looked as though Ed would sleep through them all.

In his mind, he drew up the image of the unfamiliar pattern, etched as it was in the cracked pavement somewhere back in that France place. The transmutation that had left Ed so very drained for the first time in his memory - not that it meant much these days, as messed up as his remembrances were.

He was well aware he had gaping holes, whole strings of entire years just gone as if they never were. Sometimes, when working on something that had to do with Alchemy, things just emerged, like from a fog in his head. And.

He was sure that the primitive array his brother had come up with had to have something to do with what was making him so sick. Ed simply never got sick.

Not like this.

-break-

It appeared to be an innocent thing really. A golden band upon which a small dark stone was set. It would certainly be difficult for most, of the ordinary sort, to understand how it was that the object had caused the blackened mess that was now contained in his right hand.

With regret, Dumbledore tore his eyes from the ring that represented his current folly, and turned again to the man standing before the glowing pool set upon his desk.

A sudden, but barely noticeable blue flash from the left forearm of the tiny figure floating on the not- liquid surface drew Dumbledore's eyes back to the memory currently replaying, and he swirled the his wand upon the surface to disperse the image.

"..perhaps he knows something more than he has shared.." Dumbledore mumbled to himself, then said with considerably more authority. "I am deeply dismayed, Severus... You of all people know well just how fragile a thing like trust can be."

The man's dark eyes flashed.

"I ask you, Headmaster, is it truly necessary to have the trust of that one at all?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly in thought. Then said.

"I believe so, yes. When the time comes, and it will, his ultimate choice will matter.. Yes that will matter a great deal. It would be in the best interest of all that we work to repair what we may with that one in the time that remains. Allies.. Powerful allies... will most definitely be needed."

"Then you should be aware of the.. Ah..Nature.. Of what I had witnessed."

The man reached his wand over the bowl and gently stirred the not-liquid contents.

Dumbledore raised his hand slightly, but with the movement gained the full attention of the greasy haired man.

"There is no need. I have already viewed that particular fragment, Severus. I quite understand your actions, but I hardly condone them."

Severus looked away as he pocketed his wand, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Striking resemblance. What that woman on the bed had to Lily."

"He said her name was Tricia Elric."

"She obviously meant a great deal to him."

Severus glanced up.

".. I believe she was actually his mother..."

"I see. That explains much.." Though disturbed by the revelation, Dumbledore gently stirred the Pensieve with his own wand. "..Most curious.."

Up rose three tiny figures, floating on the surface of the not-liquid. One in particular floated about the center. Brutal metal arm strapped to the right shoulder. His unruly golden bangs curtained a too serious youthful face, but the many scars that covered his body were within a painfully easy view as the figure slowly turned about with the not-liquid's movement.

"..be a brother to him..?" The voice said, a plaintive mix of command and request.

As Dumbledore watched, the figure reached his tiny living left hand to cup the cheek of a similar looking boy lying at his feet, struck dead by Voldemort. Before him stood a tiny Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, green eyes wide in alarm.

"His request of Potter in that chamber...His last request as it were, where he asked the him to be a brother to the one from the Veil...tell me, to the best of your knowledge, was he ever aware of Lily's relationship to one Mr. Potter?"

"I did not care to enlighten him on the matter at the time, and afterwards, he was.. Greatly displeased.. to listen to anything I had to say."

"..The relationship between this world and the next.. I wonder..would we be related at all.. Or are we indeed doomed to be a shadow, a pale imitation of another...?"

Al glanced again at Ed's slumping form on the bench, and gripped his braces.

"Brother.. This is our stop." He said in Amestrian.

"F-five...minn.." Was all he could make out. Ed was so fevered, it was really a jumbled mess of letters and languages spilling from Ed's mouth. Al was beginning to think he'd have to carry the shivering mound that was his brother.

"Brother.. Come on." Al said, and he added a nudge.

He was rewarded with a muffled groan.

"Problems?" A gravelly voice said in English. Al looked to see a fellow traveler, round sort of hat shoved so low on the gray hair that he wondered how the man could see.

"Not veally." Al said cheerfully with a friendly smile, as he shoved Ed again. Ed only grumbled louder then something coherent came from the jumbled mesh of languages.

"... arc length, 2 x = tan? antiderivative: substitute x get ...ss..arc length of y=cosh x from x=0 to x...reverse arc length by 6 radians to fouth..divided by zero.."

"Ed..!" Al dove and gripped Ed's blanket buried living shoulder firmly- somehow managing to stay upright at the same time.

"Have.. To find.. Huh?" Ed's eyes barely cracked open, looked alarmly pale ..dull. "Alphonse? Where..?"

"Our stop brother.."

"Oh... 'k." came the very meek reply, followed by much fumbling, many squeaks, and a crunchy creaking pop that sounded so awful that Al really hoped it all came solely from the broken automail.

Al allowed Ed's shambling mound to go before him, then he gripped the braces firmly once more. With a parting smile to the fellow in the bowl shaped hat, Al pretended not to notice the odd whirling fake electric blue eye the fellow passenger had beneath the hat.

He just knew it wouldn't be polite to gawk at it, and Alphonse Elric was always polite.

-break-

Ed nearly leaped out of the gurney when the lights flicked; Instead, he only found only the sharp burning pain that his connectors inspired throughout his body. He kicked, cursed in every language he knew, winced, and bit back not the first scream of the night; not necessarily in that order either.

"Stop that." Jon's voice said calmly. "You're so jumpy, you're making this worse."

"Shouldn't flicker."

"They flicker all the time."

"Not with what I just gave you they shouldn't. That powersource can't be.. Made it myself.. Foolproof.."

"And if you think that, you're more feverish than I like for this Eddie boy." Jon said, gesturing his point with a pair of needle nose plyers. "I'm nearly over my head with this thing, y'know. I don't want to make you worse.."

"No.. Better to get it over with."

"Then stay still."

"Fine." Ed grumbled, and layed his head down on the nearly lifeless pillow. He felt naked.. Vulnerable. He shoved down the feeling along all over too hot yet freezing cold ickiness he had endured for the past few weeks. The so solid metal plating that had been his right shoulder sat on the floor; the arrangement allowed Jon better access to the wiring.

The wiring that was a blasted mess of its former self. Ed groaned, and fidgeted at the thought of having to sit so still. Having all his wiring replaced was maddening.

"Sto.."

"Hello Edward." Ed froze and widened his eyes. Not believing his ears, he lifted his head and turned to the speaker.

Twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. Long white beard.

Dumbledore.

Beside him stood the man with the crazy whirling electric blue eye: Alestor Moody.

Ed gripped the gurney firmly with his left, was ready to push himself up off the thing in spite of the pain it would cause, then felt a hand on his left shoulder.

"Brother." Al said in Amestrian.

"Al..!" He replied in the same language, and flicked his eyes to the side for a bare glimpse Al's dark gold orbs. "What..? How did they..?"

"I. I let them in." Al said "I think you owe them enough that you should at least listen to what they have to say."

"We don't owe them a thing.." Ed said defiantly. " I've paid the equivalence. More. Than the equivalence, actually"

"Brother. I'm really worried. " Al said.

"What? Why didn't you tell me and let me.."

"It's about you brother. " Al said softly. "You never take care of yourself so I. Look. It's been weeks now and.."

"Don't worry. It's just a cold."

"Colds. Go away, brother." Al said. "It's..it's just scaring me. We're on this world and we're not exactly immune to common diseases that the people born here are. What if this is something like that..?"

Ed frowned, then looked back to Dumbledore expectantly.

"I've come to offer you the hospitality of the Weasley household for the season. Perhaps longer as needed. Dumbledore said in English and reached into his robes to produce a many stamped envelope. "It would be marginally safer there for you to recover.."

"I'm fine, you old fart." Ed spat in English

"Brodher...!" Al said in an exasperated tone, then added. "I am beink zorry for my brodher, Mr. Dumbledore."

"That's quite alright, Alphonse." Dumbledore said. "Quite alright."

Undaunted by Ed's glare, Dumbledore handed over the envelope. Ed reluctantly, and one handedly, opened it while Jon continued pulling on no less than three cables.

It was rather pretty. A slip of thick paper folded in half, with a hand made something on the front that looked vaguely like a puffy green array missing quite a few equations. On the inside portion, was a loopy, hand written script.  
It read-

Dear Ed,

Hope this finds you, as I have absolutely no idea how the Muggle system of mail works.  
Both you and your brother are more than welcome to spend the holidays with all of us. We would love to both meet and get to know him all the better.

With Much Love,  
Molly Weasley

Al gently placed his hand on the much abused, but finally healing scar on his left forearm.

"Al..?" Ed said softly.

"You told me about the Weasleys.. About how they took care of you. I really think we both owe them this much, brother." Al replied just as softly.

"Alright." Ed said a bit louder, more for Dumbledore's benefit than anything else."We'll go."

"Splendid."

" If." Ed glared at The twinkling blue eyes behind the halfmoon glasses. "You tell me what you get out of the arrangement."

"Very well. Knowledge."

"Dhen read a damn book..."

" ..That only you seem to possess."

"Huh. Right. I know a lot of things, depends on what you want."

Twinking blue eyes settled on Jon, who was bent over and fiddling with something in Ed right port. Ed stiffened, not missing the implications. Ed skewed his brows, and searched for Al's dark golden orbs.

"Jon.. Um." Al said in careful English. "..koult jou zhow me vere toilet iz?"

"Heh.. Suppose I could always get back to fiddling with these fried connectors after a bit of a break..Don't go anywhere, nerdo, I mean it."

"Like you can stop me, machine geek."

Jon gave one last tweak of a bolt inside somewhere that made Ed wince, and hiss curses in spite of having the resolve to not do so. He then patted Ed's exposed scarred shoulder as he rose to his feet, then blithely followed Al out of the room, and Ed didn't miss that Moody moved over by the closet- where he knew he couldn't miss looking at Jon's many many monitors.

Who knew if any were working, though.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you and your brother had just used a unique combination of Legillimancy and Occulamancy." Dumbledore said breezily as he eased into the chair Jon had just vacated.

It was the only chair in the room, but the proximity made Ed's skin crawl. He had no doubt that the man had a good view of the gaping empty socket, and many twisting wires, that was his right port at the moment. Ed squirmed at the too-intimate thought, even as he shivered from the cold air in the room. Wishing he could move, he looked daggers at the clips and wires of the boxy device the Jon had him attached to, and snapped.

"Don't insult me, old fart. You put up a much nicer front, but I know that you want to rape my mind just as much as Moldie Shorts."

"No. That is not it all." Dumbledore replied smoothly.

"I'm not stupid. You really should be more careful with that bowl of yours."

"I truly apologize for what Severus..."

"Save it. Tell me what you want from me."

"Very well." Dumbledore took a breath. " I remind you of our arrangement. You seem to have much more experience in calling forth the departed than that which you have chosen to share with me thus far."

"There's not much more to tell. Told you before. Life only goes in.."

"...One direction. Yes. I know. Allow me to explain myself...You seem to have managed a considerable feat. When we found you in the Death Chamber you were in the very mouth of the serpent that nearly killed Mr Weasley: a beast which had venom that prevented the healing of his wounds."

Ed scowled.

"I guess I have some sort of immunity.. He is the creation of.. That bastard." Ed said, then amended. "Hohemheim. He told me that thing was made from the remains of an older brother of mine, so maybe it's something I inherited in my blood or..I dunno."

"And the matter of your brother.. This Alphonse coming back from the brink of death in the manner that he did."

"What are you getting at?"

"Severus has told me he suspects that your bond with your brother is so very like the one that must be defeated. Edward... In light of this revelation, as an Alchemist myself, I would very much like to run a few tests..on you both."

"No. Fuck no. ..won't do that to Al. No. He's not some science experiment..."

"Incoming!" Moody barked.

The floor rumbled and shook beneath his feet. Several things.. Smalls rocks mostly, fell from the shadows above and bounced along the floor.

Without a word, Ed pushed himself off the gurney and grabbed a spare arm to strap in place. It was a piece of useless junk, but it made him feel more balanced with its weight as he moved to gaze at the many monitors in the closet. Most were full of static, but in one...about the area where Al was supposed to be headed to... Ed saw a blur of movement.

"If they somehow got to Al.. Hurt him in any way..."

"Edward...?" His name was spoken in Amestrian, and it made him realize he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

Ed snapped his snarling glare at the old man, in no mood for any kind of distraction. Dumbledore gasped, like he realized he was now in the feral sights of some kind of predator. Ed thought perhaps that was what he was now.. And freely let his rage smolder ever more.

Moody raised his wand reflexively, and Ed froze at the movement, hyper aware of everything. He fisted his left at the sharp vibration he felt, and flicked his glare toward the man as many painfully useful equations buzzed brightly in his mind.

Dumbledore reached a hand out, and made a patting motion to Moody. The man with the crazy eye did not pocket his wand, but did move back.

Ed ran, savagely kicking the door to ruins midstride..

"Dumbledore..?"

"We shall not interfere." Dumbledore said "This seems the perfect opportunity to observe in action what he will not allow me to study in more controlled conditions."

-break-

A/N- ha! Didn't think I'd actually get this done as once again, Ed started doing Ed-ish things and blew my outline. I was reduced to bare lines of dialouge to fluff out this time, as I didn't want to loose too much of where I'm going. Now I need to redo my outline, as quite a few things have changed.

I hope the read is both clear, and fun.

And, yep, I'm making time go by quickly on purpose. I'm not a romantic. Even with reading it for slash possibilities, and there ARE many, the sixth book is boring.

Face it: If Ed were Harry, Voldie would have his ass kicked by book two. Maybe three tops. 


	5. Four

The body he was in reacted violently, with some wretched instinct: The hacking coughs that ripped through the strongly vibrating chest were no doubt meant to clear the very vital passageway of life.

Wait. It was HIS body dammit. HIS. Alphonse Elric.

With some effort of will, he moved the eyelids. Managing a single blink, then another. Breathing came easier in moments. Gritty dust coating the stale air tasted bitter on his tongue, and he could see a single patch of sunlight on the far wall. The rest was dark. Very very dark.

He heard another rasping cough. Nearby. And concentrated on his fingers. They felt them flex.

Feeling. Ah yes. This was his body.

He felt..what was it. How to describe it..a massive... Sharp edged weight. Uncomfortable. But not burning.. Or piercing. He supposed that meant he wasn't bleeding. Or that he was hurt so badly that he couldn't yet register the damage.

He heard a muffled voice call out distantly. Amestrain syllables and rhythms.

"Al...! Al..!"

Al smiled a faint smile at the welcome sound.

"Brother..! Here..!" He rasped out. Voice not nearly as strong as he had hoped. Barely a whisper to his ears.

-ooooo-

Jagged slabs of broken stone, blackened walls, long pillars leaning askew, all scattered together and choked in dust. Dangling nests of sparking wire amongst shattered glass crunched loudly under the young man's uneven foot steps. Electric eye whirling, Alastor silently watched as Ed picked his way through the debris of the ruined half of the building.

"..has to be here.. Somewhere." Ed muttered in English as the strange golden eyes looked about searchingly, voice pinched and strained in a way the man knew too well. The Retired Auror noted the near blind desperation in the demeanor of the often angry young man, and coolly noted something else that would be unseen by anyone else.

"Alastor..?" Whispered to his companion, in the stairwell above the mess.

"I see the Muggles. The brother and the.. Well, They're..both alive. No sign of anyone else."

"Tell me. Is the brother's placement about where he's..?" Dumbledore made a vague circular motion with one hand.

"Roughly."

"Fascinating... they are alive?"

"AL!" Ed called again in that far too strained voice as he touched his living hand to a particularly large chunk of former ceiling, the other arm being but a dangling metal piece strapped to the empty socket. Alastor took a step down.

"Alastor.."

"Don't stop me, Dumbledore." Alastor said.

"AL! CAN YOU HEAR ME..! AALLLL!" Ed yelled.

Alastor closed his one good eye against the nearly keening quality. Through his false eye, he watched Dumbledore move beside him.

"I am far from heartless, Alestor, however.. ..You are well aware it is of vital importance that we collect the knowledge that will lead to the defeat of Voldemort." Dumbledore said softly.

"If the Order's really that different from those we fight..We should help." Alastor said. "No. We NEED to help."

Dumbledore looked his way, blue eyes twinkling curiosity.

"The kid's long been a nutter, and I have no doubt he was tortured. Who knows what You-Know-Who did to him for all those days he had him in that Ministry holding cell..."

Alastor said as he folded his arms, and looked blankly to the one armed struggles of the single blond below. The young man was tugging on a far too heavy slab and not making much on way of progress.

"That kid down there- a mere Muggle- stopped You-Know-Who with just a look and a few choice words. The look though, I saw it. There weren't any Dementors around to suck souls out, but.. it held THAT kind of... loss. Think the kid's been through enough."

"You are.. Quite right of course. Perhaps, yes. If we assist we can make some amends for this old man's mistake." Dumbledore said as he withdrew his wand. With a flourish, he pointed it towards the rubble pile before the kneeling Elric. "This is delightfully unlike you, Alastor." Dumbledore remarked cheerfully.

"Well.. I don't plan on making it a habit."

-ooooo-

The piercing vibration sang deep in his chest and, in spite of the weary fever chills, he forcefully pushed himself into a clumsy sideways leap. The slab shifted smoothly while he was in the air, and, by the time he shot out his living hand trying to correct his failing landing, he pinpointed the source of the array somewhere by the stairs. He knew well he couldn't take the chance of assuming it came from anything close to a friend.

Countless equations rushed forward, flaring hotly within his mind, and he squinted his eyes against the panicked temptation to launch them all. Crouched low, hyper aware of every noise, he peered into the dust clogged gloom about the ruins as he scratched out a hurried array on the ground with a knuckle sized stone. Then, breathing hard, he took in the smooth movements of the huge chunks of stone around him.

It was only the muffled coughing.. Heard from beneath the great broken blocks, that kept him from activating the deadly array right away.

"Al...?" He called in a hushed yell, as that sound wouldn't carry that far in the silent disaster about him.

"Brother." gasped the voice in Amestrain, sounding quite ragged and rough. Relief that Al was indeed still breathing loosened the tight knot of fear in his gut, only to coil tightly once more over the fact that his precious brother was buried in rubble.

Ed flicked his eyes towards the intact stairwell, hand hovering over the array. He heard the ghost of uneven foot steps, saw dust haze shape itself into a pair of hazy figures he thought he recognized. He flicked his golden eyes back to Al in the darkness amongst the rubble.

"You alright in there?" Ed said in Amestrain.

"Think so.." Al replied.

"Jon?"

"He's here. Think he got hit in the head though."

He swallowed tightly; Mind reeling through many calculations as he eyed the various, though moving, components before him. Torn between the need to defend himself from the unknown possible-threat causing the buzzing in his chest..

..Dust and a few broken rocks from above clattered to the ground not far away as the mess continued to shift eerily smooth..

...and the aching need to rescue Alphonse..

"Talk to me Al. Where's Jon in relation to you?" Ed hissed in Amestrain.

"Five.. Six feet? I heard him cough a while ago."

"Ok. Hold tight.." He said, and touched his living hand to the scrap heap tied to his right as the chosen equation shined brilliantly balanced in his mind. "I'm going to try a blind transmutation- reinforce the walls first and.."

"Mr. Elric." Dumbledore's serene voice interrupted. He flicked his golden eyes towards the voice, saw a wand pointing his way.

"Stop whatever you're doing, Dumbledore." Ed said flatly in English. "Ceiling isn't nearly stable enough to take it." As if to make his point quite clear, a number of fist sized chunks crashed down between them.

"Might I make a suggestion, then?" Dumbledore said smoothly in flawless Amestrain. "Alastor and I can easily and safely extract your brother and your friend from the rubble."

"Let me guess. Some magic spell that will make everything alright." Ed said sarcastically.

"Yes.. Something like that." Dumbledore said. "If. You'll let us."

"Not that I need any of your help." Ed said in English, the narrowed his golden eyes. "Tell me what is the catch?"

"There is no catch." Dumbledore replied.

"Bullshit." Ed said, and flicked his eyes to another sound- only to realize it was the chipping noise of more falling rocks. "Besides. We might not be alone. Who ever did this.."

"Is long gone." Alastor stated in his gravely voice, drawing Ed's eyes to him. He watched as the man tapped his whirling electric blue eye. "Muggle area. Hit and run strike most likely."

"If. It's Deatheaters." Ed said with narrowed eyes. "There could be others."

Alastor snorted in derision.

"Then it's best to get gone from this place as quick as possible, now isn't it?" Alastor replied evenly.

"Brother..?" Al breathed in Amestrian. "What's going on..?" Ed swallowed, glanced into the darkness that held his brother prisoner, then looked hard at Alastor.

"You can see in there." Ed stated, and Alastor gave the slighted of nods.

He then flicked his gaze to Dumbledore.

"Your way.. Really makes my skin crawl..."

"Then. You will not allow us..I under..."

"I didn't say that!" Ed interrupted, swallowed tightly, squeezed his eyes shut as he shook out his living hand to disperse the circulating energy. "Like digging out cave-ins.. Blint vreations. Are real tricky things..I'd rather not chance killink anyvone...Your vway. Your so-called magik. Has slightly better chanse of success."

As he stood up, still wary of the waving of wands and the sharp buzzing they caused in his chest, he watched in wonder as the debris either vanished all together, or moved of it's own accord like a swirling hurricane to form retaining walls for the crumbling ceiling.

The wonder did not stop him from spotting Alphonse's first shabby attempts to stand, nor did it keep him from being the first to his brother's side. Once he was reasonably sure Al was not going to keel over, he then walked his brother to Alastor, who was overlooking Dumbledore as the old man checked the groggy Jon over for injuries.

"I'll go and make arrangements for the M.." Alastor began.

"He has a name." Ed growled, and pocketed his left, right dangling uselessly at his side.

"Indeed he does." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Please inform Molly that she should expect an additional guest, one that I'm sure will delight her husband to no end."

"Dumbledore...?" Alastor said at the same time as Ed's startled:

"What?"

-oooooo-

A/N-this chappy is not perfect. Ah well. It does manage cover much of what I wished to, without me torturing Ed that much. Had to leave another part out as it will work better in the next chapter- that crazy ass character is just too difficult to channel. You'll see what I mean when I get there. Thanks for reading and reviewing! 


	6. five

Although it was his last one there, it had begun an ordinary enough day in the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.

He waved his wand, vanishing the last of the stack of papers to nothing at long last, and smiled a wry smile of satisfaction. He slipped his wand into his vest pocket with a little smug pat, and was honestly about to scratch idly at the remaining patch of red hair on his head when the floor just rumbled and shook.

By some reflex, he squeezed himself under his tiny, now former, desk. He had a good view of the gushing blaze that flashed its way down the hall beyond the open door, curling the folded flying notes to ash before they had a chance to fly in. The first thing crossed Mr. Weasley's mind was that perhaps a stray dragon had managed by. As he heard the many pained screams of those occupying the hall, his thoughts raced on, revolving around another, more horrifying thought.

He gripped his wand firmly. It was not the first time Death Eaters had been in the Ministry. Not at all. Alone amongst the clutter in the tiny office, he thought longingly of his family, and, as brave a man he was, he found himself greatly inclined to remain squished beneath that tiny desk.

He was about to apparate away when he heard Shacklebolt's deep voice, barking out the various names of his co-workers.

"Weasley..! You alright?"

"I'm fine." Mr. Weasley said. "Was it them?"

"Death Eaters..? Don't know yet." Mr. Weasley watched as Shacklebolt, with cat-like grace, slipped past the doorway, wand out before him."Looks like it came from below..."

Several moments passed, and as one leg was beginning to painfully cramp up, a glowing silvery smoke of a thing ran up to his face: It was a nearly solid cat-like creature with a short stump of a tail and long tufts extending from the wide ears..

"Everyone seems only slightly burned.. More shook up than hurt. There's a message for the Minister carved in the rock of the Death Chamber. I am going to deliver that next." It said in Shacklebolt's smooth baritone, then turned and bounded off through the wall.

Mr. Weasley finished speaking and leaned back in his chair. He looked over at Shacklebolt expectantly, as the man was seated rather comfortably across from him at the table.

"This does not leave this room, understood?" Shacklebolt said gravely, then, once those gathered about the homely table nodded in agreement, smoothly reached within his robes and withdrew a wizarding photograph. Molly, Tonks, and Lupin gazed at it as intensely as Mr. Weasley did.

It read:

Bridager-General Roy Mustang Alchemical Core, Amestris

To: Cornelius Fudge Minister of Magic,  
Great Britain

Your Excellency, Greetings:

This message is delivered in good faith in the effort to establish formal diplomatic relations between our two great nations.

I am quite pleased to announce that both Furor Grumman and the Provisional Parliament of Amestris would be quite amiable to the formalization of diplomatic relations with the Ministry of Magic, provided that I find no reason to recommend otherwise.

Respectfully,

Bridager-General Roy Mustang Flame Alchemist, Alchemical Core, Amestris

"On the very day of my promotion.." Mr. Weasley said. "Reckon it's Death Eaters..?"

"Perhaps." Remus said. "But they usually do not stop at defacing mere stone."  
-ooo-

A/N- this was actually me rebelling on my outline as it was getting a bit boring writing for Ed and Al. May or may not keep. Sorry about the delay, and there is a good reason. Went to a scifi convention called Loscon, otherwise this here writing likely would've happened at all. I did mention that my outline got boring, didn't I? This is WIP! 


	7. six

-oooo-

Harry wasn't quite sure what it was that woke from the dream less dose he was in that evening, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the distinctive sound of retching echoing through the doorway that he heard a second later. A few heartbeats after gazing at the blank ceiling, he remembered he wasn't at Hogwarts, but rather was staying in the Burrow with Ron's family for holiday.

Pop!

He saw that the twins were at the bannister already by the time he was halfway to the door; and with a blearly glance to the side, he nearly tripped over Ron in a clumsy rush to see what the adults, once again, were up to below.

He heard the front door bang, and more clearly heard the sound of sick. He leaned closer to the end piece of the twin's extendable ear, already deployed and dangling down to the ground floor.

He could make out Lupin's speak in a soothing way,

"..I assure you that both of your reactions are completely normal given this is the first time either of you.."

He heard something unintelligible, yet familiar: a foreign tongue he knew the rhythm of. Only the speaker was a mystery- the voice did sound young. A boy? With a look he saw the twins grin mischievously at one another.

George whispered, "..give it a go?" And withdrew his wand.

Fred replied "..why not..?"

"What are you.." Harry whispered as he shivered from a cold draft billowing up his pajamas.

"..translation spell.." Whispered one. "... Bit dodgy.." Whispered the other.

"Brother.." Came the unfamiliar voice, worriedly. "You ok?"

"Coming.. coming.." Harry heard Ron's mother call out distantly. Then, after few moments of hearing rustling cloth. "Oh..Whatever happened..?"

"Just a first time sidelong apparation." Moody said gruffly and as if it explained everything. Harry furrowed his brow. "Where do you want the ..things..?"

"In the back.. By Arthur's..um.. go through the second door." Molly said distractedly. Scraping sounds of what sounded much like a heavy trunk being dragged along the ground receded along with the uneven footsteps of Moody.

As the others leaned over the rails, Harry realized that he had stupidly left his glasses back on the side table. Though he longed to glimpse what was happening in the blurry fuzz below, he instead leaned closer to the ear, nearly cupping it with both hands in an effort to make out what else was said.

He could have sworn he heard the boy's voice plead,

"Pleaze.. Brodder.. Vreally.. Not vell. Needs vrest."

"Oh.. My..he's burning up...!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, loud enough that the ear was entirely unnecessary. "This way..it's the closest.."

"Mum..!" Ron said in warning.

Suddenly, Harry found that he was gripping the ear as Fred, George, AND Ron frantically took turns drawing up the extension from below; the long fleshy string soon tangled itself hopelessly about both his hands. Ron hooked his elbow; half-shoved and half-towed him back to the bedroom as both twins vanished with a "pop!"

He backpedalled to his bed and somehow slipped under the quilt without the use of his hands. He quickly worked his digits free of the fleshy mess and roughly shoved the bundle under his pillow. He laid his head neatly in place just as the door to Ron's room opened, and the light came on.

"Ron, Harry dear.. Sorry to disturb you." Mrs. Weasley said gently, and Harry lifted his head off the pillow, hoping he still looked bleary eyed. "Ed and (Alphonse is it..?) Are our guests, and will be sharing your room for the holiday."

Harry managed a smile and a wave; however, even without his glasses he could tell that the blur he knew was Ed had his right shoulder oddly slumped, and the long sleeve looked empty.

His friend was most definitely missing his right arm.

Harry watched Ed mutely walk.. No, stagger.. past him his bed. He reached for his glasses as the other blur.. Alphonse, his mind supplied belatedly..rushed past Mrs. Weasley to Ed's left.

He glanced to Ron by long habit. Ron's eyes were wide as he, too, watched his guests. His face held a potent mix of surprise and horror, and he worked his mouth as he swallowed before finally squeaking out a weak, "N-nice to see you again, mate.."

Ed grunted and barely lifted a finger on his gloved left hand, which was now draped over Alphonse's shoulders.

Mrs. Weasley waved her wand vaguely towards the far wall, and Harry did not miss a small startled gasp, nor the slight stiffening of the boy's back, before a pair of beds popped into existence there.

"Is everything all.."

The boy smiled over at Mrs. Weasley.

"Zorry.. Zorry. I am not uzed to.. Um.. Zuch tings." Alphonse said sweetly. "You are greatly skilled.. Dey are very vell made...Tank you greatly."

Edward slumped onto the nearest bed. Once free from Alphonse, Ed laid down wordlessly, and faced away towards the wall. Though Ed was fully clothed, Alphonse carefully draped Ed with a quilt.

"Uh.. T-thank you." Mrs. Weasley replied. "Edward..dear.. I know you're not feeling well from the.. Uh.. trip, but I do have.. would you care for some broth or something? Perhaps a potion to bring down that fever..?"

At those words, Ed made a soft groan and pulled up his legs up, balling himself into an mound.

"Mrs. Veasley.. Tank you, but I vreally tink.. more quilts vould be much better.." Alphonse said as he ran his gloved fingers over the top of Ed's scalp and through the unruly bangs. " Ant.. Maybe a small cloth widh bowl of vater..?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and left.. Harry assumed to retrieve the requested items.

"Alphonse..? What wron.." Harry blurted out. Worried, and weary, gold eyes focused on him He found he forgot what he was going to ask, and closed his mouth.

"Harry vright..? I am zorry but.." Alphonse glanced over to Ron, and smiled apologetically. "Brodher iz... Far too tiret. Ant. My english is not..ennuff.. to tell you."

"Blimey.." Ron muttered, and with a glance to Harry, rolled onto his side to face away from their guests. ".. hope we don't catch it.. doesn't scream at night anymore, does he?"

Instead of answering, Alphonse smiled thinly, and turned back to Ed.

-ooooo-

It wasn't quite a scream from Ed that night which pulled Harry from his dreams, but it was loud enough to do the trick.

"Al..?" Ed's voiced called out. Across from him, Harry heard Ron mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "bloody hell..!".

"I'm here brother.. I'm here..shh... Quiet.."

Harry looked over by the door, and, although a blurry shadow, Ron was most definitely pounding various pillows into submission. He glanced over to Ed, the cause of the whole disturbance, only to see the dark blur that was Alphonse hovering over the bundled mass.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry... All my fault...So much blood.. And.."  
"Shhh.. nothing to apologize for.. We're safe now. Shh.."

He heard Alphonse speaking softly in that odd language, and Ed replying just as softly..only Harry found he could understand it. Every word.

Somehow.

Harry was not one to really question such a thing, and as he was very curious about this most secretive friend, he decided to take advantage of his good fortune. He could pretend to be asleep. It was quite easy in the dark.

"..succeeded..? You're really...all you...?" Ed said worriedly.

"Yes brother.. I'm me." Came an laughing reply. "I'm here.."

"Uh.. Al? Wh-where am I..?"

"Don't you remember? We're staying with the Weasley family."

"Wha.. Weasley..? What hap..?"

"You have a fever. A bad one that's down a bit..again. Brother.. I'm worried. It's almost like.."

"What..?"

"What if.. What if it's rejection..? A fever that lasts weeks and cycling along like this is a classic.."

"No."

"But..Brother.."

"One symptom after..? What. Five years? I don't think so..." Ed said soothingly. "I'm fine. Here.."

The shadows seemed to merge. Harry lowered his brows. Was Al doing what he thought he was doing over there..?

Sharing a bed..? With Ed of all people? But. Harry well knew that Ed never liked to be touched by anyone, and always kept people at a respectful distance from his body. He even refused the courtesy of shaking hands.

"You...did this for me.. after mom died.."

"..so you do remember..?"

"..The closeness.. This.. feeling... She.. You.."

"Shh.."

"Brother, I missed this.. A lot."

"I know.." Ed yawned.

"Stop it, Brother. Just. Stop blaming yourself.." Al's voice sounded both sleepy and muffled. "If not for you, I wouldn't be alive.."

"I was an idiot. You wouldn't have lost it in the first place..and to have be that tin can for.."

"Stop it. Just. Stop."

Someone snorted. Harry wasn't entirely sure if it was Al or Ed, but he suspected it was the latter.

"Al..?"

"Yes Brother..?"

"Last thing I remember is getting my shoulder worked on..and something like an explosion. Um.. What happened to Jon..?"

"He's..here too. Mr. Moody took him to set up somewhere. "

"Now I remember.." Ed exhaled. "Fever or not ..wanna to get this done and over with. Did he say how long it'll be to..?"

"No. Brother." Al said "I was more worried about you. You push things so fast and.."

"Shh.. Al. I'm fine." Ed said, "'Sides, with my nerves getting messed with like that.. Figure I'll be sick anyway."

There wasn't anything else to hear for a while. Harry didn't realize he too drifted off into dreams until Ron shook him awake for breakfast. It wasn't until Hermione arrived, later that morning, that Harry could find the space from Ed and Al to fill his best friends in on what he'd heard.  
-ooooo-

A/N- Part of my new year resolution is to write a story everyday..yep, I'm taking the 'stephan king' approach to writing...

Anyhow, the doctor who- hp crossover I'm doing shook loose some ideas to play with. No guarantees on how much or little I will do, as this crossover is a bit drawn out as it is.

-ooooo- 


	8. Seven

A/N—ok, getting back on the horse. I forgot where I was going with this here fic, which means I'm free to come up with wackiness as much as I like. And apologies for the mangled up version I posted last night—nanowrimo seems to have wrecked my sense of grammar.

Previously-

Ed and Al arrive at the Burrow in time for the holidays with the Weasley Family.

Ed had sought out Jon, a Muggle technician friend of his, to do the difficult chore of getting his automail adjusted, but before he could get much of anything done, Jon's place in Europe was wrecked. The current list of those who could be responsible for the damage includes the Death Eaters, who are known to be seeking both Ed and Al. As a result, Jon is also a guest of the Weasleys.

Fred and George test out a translation spell on their ear device, which allows Harry to listen in on the private conversations that night occurring between the brothers.

He learns that Ed had arrived sick with a high fever. Ed is stubbornly insisting to get his automail worked on in spite of his illness, but Al thinks it's a real bad idea.

At the ministry—

The Ministry is reeling from the fiasco created by the previous regime's epic mishandling of Voldemort, but the Dark Wizard is currently the least of the Wizarding World's troubles.

The Ministry has no idea what to do with the message delivered by one Bridger-General Mustang through the Veil, which firmly established "first contact" between the alchemical and magical worlds. The Order of the Phoenix, in general, knows precious little of the incident in question, other than it was quite flashy and involved the burning of stone.

ooooo

Once free of the green roaring flames of the floor, she rolled smoothly to her feet. The spikes of her boots clicked upon the smooth dark tile, and she frowned at her toes for a scant moment as she wobbled. This was an annoyance, this side effect left to her from her years spent prison. The place called Azkaban left her with such unseen scars, and she hated it for the weakness it was.

The dark lace of her black robes rustled as she teetered back to her proper balance, and she proudly straightened her spine. She glanced at the green flames behind her, and frowned.

The fireplace was large, nearly three times her height, and made of dark stone that looked quite expensive. The stone was cut into neat squares which extended out and wrapped about the high mantle she could not see the top of. Twin elaborate sculptures, which vaguely resembled oversized peacocks, stood guard at either side of the open hearth, and she warily eyed the long feathery stone tails which draped out in low relief along the walls. The surfaces gleamed, as if properly polished to a high sheen of gloss.

The fire flared out twice, spewing forth two dark draped rolling bodies, and she watched the wizards rise to their feet. They looked her way before darting their gazes back to the fire as it again flared out twice more, and deposited two more dark draped forms. Her upper lip curled at the group of four staggering before her, and she listened to their low muttering.

"Long distance floo.." One complained in French as he rubbed at his lower back.

"Not so bad as I thought it would be.." Another added in reply.

An unearthly shriek filled the room, and the four fool wizards looked to each other with clear nervousness. She did not know any of their names, but then, she did not need to know, either.

"Quiet you fools." She snapped at them in their tongue, and held her head high. "You wish to have audience with the Dark Lord?" It was a statement, and not a question. The fools knew that at once by the commanding tone she infused into her voice.

She eyed them steadily, and one shook his head. That one darted back into the floo like the coward he was. The fire flared green in his passing, and, after a few moments, those that still stood before her, nodded. She narrowed her eyes, then spun about on her spiked heal.

She strode with dark purpose towards the source of the chill noise, not bothering to look behind her to see if she was followed. The shuffling of footsteps told her all she wanted to know. The dark curls of her hair flew wildly over her back, and the stunted shuffles struggled to keep up with her strides.

She hutched her shoulders up as she approached the grand archway which served as the entrance to the adjoining room, and when she reached the corner, she quickly bowed her head. A faint tingle upon the skin of her hands told her that the wordless hovering charm her Dark Lord had cast was still very much active, and she glanced up at the awesome sight floating above.

The once favored wretch of a thing, trapped by the forceful will of her Dark Lord, was a huge beast. It was in the form of a snake, and it coiled about wildly, constantly writhing. Her Dark Lord stood dwarfed below it. A deft flick of the wand freed a jet of red that struck against that massive form, and the thing roared as if it were a pained dragon.

The Cruciatus curse tended to do that, especially when it was cast by such a master, and she marveled a moment at the effortless strength Voldemort possessed with his magic. The feat was all the more impressive if one happened to know, as she did, that the wand he wielded was a borrowed one. With a wand properly tuned to him, she knew her Lord could do much more impressive feats than this.

She quickly clasped her hands to her chest while his back was turned her way, and bowed so low that her knees and elbows touched the polished stone at the same time. She rested her forehead to the cool tile, and slowly slid the palms of her hands forward against the floor.

It was often said that she took sadistic pleasure in her magical ability, and gleefully breathed in the reek of fear her skills in the Dark Arts caused in lesser Wizards. It was also said that she proudly wore the dark mark, emblazoned years ago upon her left forearm by the Dark Lord himself. Both of these things were often true, but she buried them deep within herself at this time.

Bellatrix Lestrange was not a woman seen cowered in fright often, but today she crouched low, and took great care to linger her gaze on the pooling dark dampness creeping along the stone floor from the center of the room. She wasn't quite certain what that fluid was, but she knew the house elves would collect it for Severus Snape. Sometimes, the creatures would burn off their fingers should they be careless enough to touch it. Since she had no name for it, in her mind she came to call it "ichor", and likened it to the closest thing to blood the snake thing had. She glanced at the floating beast: the ichor dribbled from numerous slashes that ran along the thing's slithering body, and its eyes especially seemed to weep the stuff.

She flicked her gaze behind her, to the few foreigners she had gathered. Most had said they wished to join the Death Eaters with eager voices, but she could see the weakness in their faces. It was clear to her that they were fools. They would never understand that there was no room for weakness here.

She could easily hear the slight crunching of the Dark Lord's footsteps before her, and shifted her focus. The foreigners were not her concern; they were a matter that the Dark Lord himself would sort out. His steps sounded neatly out of reach of the slick. She dared not to raise her head, for she knew that his rage was far from being spent.

A blinding flash of red burned to white, and it seemed as if the dark stone of the chamber had been bleached to white. Her ears filled with the awful noise that the snake thing produced, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a heartbeat. It was far better to cover the wince the shill sound forced out of her than to show it. She blinked rapidly, desperate to see, but it wasn't working. Not after a spell fired so grandly as that.

Lord Voldemort is certainly in a mood tonight, she mused. She decided that since fate deemed her eyes unworthy to see, that she must instead use her ears.

The yowling abruptly stopped, and in the hush which filled the air after, she judged her breath to be a burden. She violently willed her air in, all to better tune her ears. She was rewarded with a few shuffled steps, and a great whump of a sound which vibrated deep into the earth.

In time, her vision cleared. A hurried glance to her left told her what she already had guessed. The Dark Lord had ended his hovering charm.

The slithering thing in snake form had fallen, and now lay limp on the floor. It lay near the tip of her booted foot, but she resisted the savage urge to kick it with the sharp spike of the boot's heel. That action would displease her Lord. This task of punishing a traitor was his alone to accomplish.

She darted her eyes away as she glimpsed the pale skin of slippered feet. She watched as they stepped calmly beside the great lump of a snake and eyed the black robe billowing slightly behind the bare ankles.

"This thing has no place on this world, and is worse than trash. " She heard the cold high voice say somewhere above her. It was filled disgust, and she swallowed it down. She banished the thought that a few months ago, this not snake was the Dark Lord's most favored of treasures. That was before the thing's betrayal in the Department of Mysteries.

Within her chest, her lungs were on fire. Her eyes darted about the floor, and for a time, she watched her fingertips as they gradually faded to a dull shade of blue. She was sure that hearing his will held a vast more importance than her next breath, and she curled her fingers to hide her weakness from his sight.

"Ah, my most devoted servant. "

"My Lord." She exhaled.

"I set you a simple enough of a task. What was this I hear about your continued failure? "

"It was not I which failed you, My Lord." Bellatrix said from her place on the ground, heaving for breath. She infused her voice full with respect and reverence that she dredged from the depths of her heart. Without looking behind her, she swept her arm wide with her fingers outstretched. "I have gathered for you those who did."

Lord Voldemort did not say a word, but she heard his footsteps as he strode to stand beside her.

"Rise up, Bellatrix, and face me." She heard, and she quickly pushed herself to her feet. She looked to the nose-less pale face of her Lord, and she felt the beating of her heart quicken as she looked upon his red irises for the first time in nearly a month. "I am a busy man. Be quick and tell me what happened."

"I know what you search for. These are but one of the many things you seek. I- I wished to see if these fools were worthy of joining us, but they hesitated to act at the opportune time. As a result the pair you seek the most slipped away in the rubble of a _Muggle_ village."

"A _Muggle_ village, you say?" Voldemort said, his disgust dripping off the word "Muggle" The term referred to the non-magical people that were worth less than the dirt at their feet. She knew her Lord would rather see the vermin exterminated, and often encouraged his followers to kill as many as they could. She rather thought all potential Death Eaters knew this of him. "Then why waste my time and bring these here, if they are so incompetent the most _basic_ use of magic?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She said thickly as she looked to the throbbing lump at his pale throat, the very proof that his heart still beat within his chest. She swallowed. " They're for your evening's entertainment." She added softly.

Voldemort lifted his chin and turned his head away from her gaze. His eyes narrowed, and she felt the corners of her lips rise.

She knew her new recruits would be enchanted and appropriately placed, but not before a proper demonstration of the use of the Cruciatus curse. Each one would have a rather intimate demonstration of the spell before sunrise.


	9. Author's final note

~~llothcat here

I hope that the moderators on this site will be kind and allow me to keep this note up.

This here story has inspired many new fan fiction authors to try their hand at this challenging genre. I am in awe of what has been produced since I finished this piece, and there are still quite a few tales that I follow when I am procrastinating. (From writing other fan fics, from drawing, painting, chores, what have you.) I am quite aware of its many flaws, and like the above mentioned authors, strive to not repeat the mistakes in my future writings.

Certain parts are cringe worthy... I mean I wrote this on successive grave shifts, for over a year, under the heavy influence of too much soda, strong coffee, and sugary junk food. Add to that, this piece is something of a symbol for me, as it is the first piece of fiction writing I have ever done where the dang characters in my head actually argued with me. (I blame the coffee. It was an awful sludge, but it did the trick).

I was locked out of this account for a long time, due to an upgrade that went wrong.

I have a new account now, under my real name, and that means something of a fresh start. Which brings me back to the reason for me posting this note:

I am considering taking it down, and the only thing that keeps me from doing so is the fact that I have went and posted it in an archive. Warts and all.

I think this piece of mine has served its purpose, and good writing has prevailed here in this little corner of .


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